


Created Man In His Image

by kingsocean



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Clone Sex, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, God Complex, M/M, Needles, Oral Sex, Other, Science, Semi-Canonical Character, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 17:52:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12090267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsocean/pseuds/kingsocean
Summary: Verstael has urges too, he just needs the right outlet for them. NSFW Clone Sex fic





	Created Man In His Image

**Author's Note:**

> It's not beta read, none of my work is beta reader approved, I just finish draft and post it, and if you have a problem with that, I will face English grammar and walk backwards into hell.

Verstael’s fingers ran up the young clone’s thigh. Naked, never worn clothes in its life, a perfect form of a man, perfect to supply the frontline, perfect for the slaughter of war. They were lean, all of them, not heavy with muscle, supple and soft, but firm in the right places, perfect adult bodies. At this stage, their skin was prone to dryness, so used to being soaked in a chemical tube, all its life. It has no real thought process, just intent to kill, training to obey Graelean orders, a laundry list of attacks, and a lovely innocence other than that.

        It’s a shame, really, that they can’t be used for so many other things. With the right programming, little tinkering, working more on different strengths, and they could be anything. Athletes, farmers, gunsmiths, sex toys, even.

        Well, they were the latter already, but, they could use some work. Better sensitivity, more vocal, more reactive. Not to say he’s not pleased,  _no,_  he  **is** , he’s proud of his work, and everything he’s done to get here. Sometimes he simply has…  _needs_ , of course. He picks the clone’s head up, seeing it’s eyes flutter open. They have such lovely, babysoft hair from being in the chemical bath. Such long lashes, such blue eyes, they look dark purple in the dimly lit lab. It lifts its hand, quietly placing it on Verstael’s chest, eyelashes fluttering while it looked up at its creator. Verstael’s heart quickens.

        As far as the clone knows, it’s been awakened for a new training session. Verstael tells the clone to sit up, and it does. Verstael’s hand dips, down into the waistband of his pants, and the clone’s eyes look on eagerly, waiting for it’s new “training” session. It looks confused and excited, and Verstael loves every part of that. It’s blessed innocence is so refreshing in a horrific lab, all the violent daemons, talk of war, execution, betrayal, suspicion. For now, the talk can go away as he ruins this little creature that could barely be called a human.

        Verstael knew they’d be inexperienced, and he enjoyed it. It was like having a virgin every time, and they were always so eager to learn. He was their god, their  _master_ , after all, everything he said was law. The clone is of course functional as a human, it sits up, naked, and when Verstael tells it to stand, it does. He chuckled, that cute little face, always looking up to him, so eager, so wanting.

        Verstael unzipped his pants, slowly fondling his own bulge, and lets the clone watch. They have such intense, eager eyes, wanting to soak up anything and everything that is around it, and looking on to Verstael. He brushes its hair back, and smiled, slowly stroking himself to the thought of that lovely soft mouth learning to suck his cock, the thought of that pure untouched body finally being used in all sorts of filthy ways. A flower to defile, he understood now why virgins were called that. So untouched by every horrible thing in the world. He groaned, eyes shut, and pulls his cock out from his boxers, red and engorged. He’s throbbing, and the clone’s little gasp of confusion, and it’s look of concern only causes him more pleasure.

        The clone itself had never seen anything like it, it was like its own, the one between its legs, but it wasn’t soft or laying there. It was hard, and red, and sticking upright. The clone looked up at Verstael, head tilted in confusion, wondering if there was something wrong with his function – perhaps he was sick? Verstael smiled at it’s silly little look. He takes the clone’s hand, and has it touch itself. Grasping it’s cock, he strokes a few times, even leans over, and puts it in his mouth, feeling that soft flesh, the plush of his cheek rubbing against it, no friction, just warm and wet, rubbing his tongue on the underside. The clone seems so shocked, it lets out an unbridled moan, and squirmed in confusion. Verstael pulled away, wiping his lips. He used just his hand, andgave two commands. “Watch. Follow.”

        So, it does. The clone watches, eyes intent, although tears prick its eyes with pleasure, and its hips thrust on its own. The sensation is so new, it only knows of training, bruises, fighting, broken bone once, and some exhaustion, but this is a totally new type of exhaustion, something so different. It uses its smaller hand, and wraps it around Verstael’s. It follows, smooth, slow strokes. Verstael teases the tip of its cock. The clone shuts its eyes leaning into that sensation. It’s nothing like usual training, it feels  _good_ , really good. Was this training? Or some sort of reward?

        Regardless, the sensation is gone, and the clone actually whines, enough to make Verstael’s cock ache again. He sits back on the cushion, and beckons the clone forward with a hand command. It obeys—so good, so obedient, crawling on the duvet. He points at his own cock, and commands it. “Repeat.” He demands it. The clone follows through.

        The clone worked it’s hand up and down, just like the trainer taught him. It does as instructed, touching, teasing at where they were told. Verstael leans back, and whispers some filthy words, not that the clone understands it. They are only obedient to command, and it would never understand being called a filthy little whore, and all the other names Verstael gives it. For now, it does what made it feel good, hoping to be rewarded with it again, and digs its thumbnail into the head of Verstael’s cock. The slit is teased, and the clone even leans over and sucks, using its mouth on the sensitive head for a while. Verstael clutches its head, stroking its silky soft hair back.  He moaned, clutching its head between his thighs.

        “Such a good slut.” He hissed. At the word ‘good’ the clone lifted its head, and looked to Verstael. Those pretty little eyes, and it’s wet little mouth. Verstael shuts his own eyes and moans, something heated and white comes out. The clone is surprised, never seeing cum before, and now having half of it on its hands, and the other half coating its face, running down its cheek to its chin. It’s so sticky, between its fingers, on its skin, the scent is musky and heady, not anything like chemicals.

        The scientist sighed, content. It felt good, but he could never last long, not without some sort of pill or shot. Age was catching up to him after all. It hardly mattered. He would be back soon, for now, he had business to attend to. Once he’s done toying with them, and panting, exhausted, he cleans himself, and leaves them there, a sticky mess, for him to return to later. It’s a shame, he’s so hard while working in the lab, thinking about that cute little thing, sitting in his room, waiting for him. The clones are obedient, and if he says to lay down and sleep, they will, so it slumbers away, given the honor of sleeping in the head doctor’s bed. (He was such a workaholic after all, Verstael eventually caved in and just had a bedroom in Zegnautus AND his lab, for the purpose of relaxation hours between work.)

        He wanted to break them. Make a mess of them, see them a wreck, totally dependent on him. That was what he did with this broken doll, this _failure_ , his barcode was corrected, information sent off, as far as most doctors knew, he was in an incinerator, and never woke up. For a few select however, they knew exactly where the clone was, sitting in Verstael’s bunker, learning all sorts of new tricks from its master. Those doctor’s think nothing of it. The head scientist that was saving their country deserved his rewards, and they found no qualms in such an act. Some had even participated with Verstael, although they knew, the first night was always just for the doctor. It was his turn. The time to finally deflower them was always his. Some even jerked off on their own, the thought of being a limp useless doll like a broken MT, and used as nothing but a toy for pleasure. It was an ultimate fantasy. Verstael got to live it out.

        He enters the room, locks the door, hangs his coat, and sees the clone sleeping, still sticky and white on its face and hands. Verstael sat back in the plush, over stuffed armchair of his room. “Wake up.” He barked, and the clone’s eyes open like a robot. It sits up, rubbing their eyes and smearing cum on its face. Some of it is crusty and stuck to its hands and skin, tightening the skin. Verstael grinned, slowly running his hand down to the zipper of his pants.

        He commanded the clone to face him, and it did. “Come here.” He commands. “Get on your knees in front of me.”

        The clone walks forward, lips parting. “Yes master.” And Verstael shuts his eyes at the soft sigh he emits from that. _Six above_ , it was good to hear that name. Not doctor, not professor, not chief; _master_ , it had a good ring to it. He watched them sink down, shoulders squared, eyes always watching, always learning – they truly were good learners. He takes a glass of water from his nightstand, drinking it, and downing a little blue pill. Once he finishes the glass, he pulls a thin tube from his pocket.

        He uncaps it, revealing a syringe, filled with some transparent yellow serum. As age caught up with him, and he wished for nothing but to live forever, but also to function forever, like a normal human being. Unfortunately, he couldn’t without the help of tools, but he didn’t mind, this would be sufficient.

        “You are such a good little thing, but I can make you better.” Verstael remarked, and the clone perked up hearing ‘good’ again. Verstael cups the back of its head again, and pulled it forward, right into its neck, where the bumps of its spine are, he pokes the syringe, quick about it, and hisses “Stay still.” The clone goes rigid. The serum goes, and he pulls out the needle, capping it, and setting it back down on the table. “Good boy.” Another twitch. The clone settled its face on his thigh, and he allows it, slowly stroking its hair, and seeing a small dot of blood on its neck. He leans over, and licks the blood off, nuzzling his face into soft blond locks of hair. The blood is copper-laden, like any blood, but he tastes a bit of serum still lingering. He sat up straight, and sees the clone looks a bit uncomfortable.

        “It kicks in fast doesn’t it?” He whispered. The clone looked up to the sound of his voice, and squirmed. “It’s a wonderful thing. Every inch of your body will feel good soon. I want you to last… after all.” Verstael took his boot, pressing it hard against the clone’s soft dick, and listened to the garbled groan that exited its lips, slowly turning to a moan.

        He grinds the sole of his work boot into the cock, feeling some resistance. He nudges it with his toe, feeling the heat, and the turgidness of the cock near it. The clone is desperate for more, bucking its hips, whining, not sure what to say, how to ask for more, just pressing itself into Verstael’s foot, hoping it could convey its feelings.

        Verstael watched, amused as he felt his own hardon starting to spring up. He palmed himself through his garments, feeling his cock twitching, aching for the little thing beneath him. The clone continues to nudge itself against Verstael’s foot, until its whines are too much, and Verstael begins to unzip his pants, pulling the fabric down, and quietly pulling his cock from the boxers. The clone suddenly lunges like a man starved, and places Verstael’s cock in its mouth, salivating, sucking, moaning as its hand begins to trail down, and pump its own cock like it had earlier this morning.

        Verstael has to pull it off, its mouth feels so good he’s worried he’ll cum right then and there. “Slow.” He commands, and the clone stops, thinks, and slowly begins to bob its head up and down, sucking slowly, tasting, and lapping the underside. It looked up at Verstael, like he was the answer to every prayer, and put both its hands on his thighs, jerking its hips forward into that chair, rough fabric brushing against its cock. Verstael leaned back in his chair, letting the clone work him over.

        “No biting.” He remarked, feeling teeth scrape his cock. “Gentle.” The clone shut its eyes, like it’s savoring the taste, and did its best to avoid teeth, just tongue, and as best as it could, its throat, swallowing around Verstael as best as it could. The scientist marveled at it, such a fast learner, and teased it, calling it a good little cocksucker, and how it was almost built to take cocks, and how it should’ve been, since it was so good at it. He feels himself on the edge, and finds himself able to choke out the word “Stop.” With a bark. The clone pulls off with a wet pop, and a bit of saliva on its chin.

        “Bed. Go.” Verstael orders. It stands, shaking, and verstael walks it walk like it’s drunk, and stumbled to the bed, laying on its back. The clone reaches between its legs, and starts stroking itself. Aching hard. Verstael watched, smiling with no subtly. The bedsheets were satin, and there was already stains on it, although he hardly cared. The room was fairly large, although no windows, a very large bed, nightstands on either side, a vanity on the wall, facing the foot of the bed, beside the vanity was the door to a bathroom. Then a large bookshelf, on either side of his desk, with a dim lamp for late night working, the door out to the facility, his armchair, and back to his bed. Verstael looked around, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off the clone. He opened the second drawer of his nightstand, and pulls out some toys, as well as a nice tube of lubricant, half used up by now, and a bottle of baby oil. After that, he produced a bottle of water from the first shelf, and some pills.

        Verstael took some of the oil, coating his hand, and then slowly pumping his cock. The clone was still rubbing itself, moaning, cum dripped from its cock, pooling on its stomach, dipping into its navel. Verstael had a low breathy moan. He took the tube of lubricant, as well as a medical glove, snapping it over his hand. He smeared the gloved hand, and quietly teased at the clone’s cock, smearing its balls with lube, and dragged down, teasing its hole, and pressing a finger inside.

        “I’m in a giving mood.” He hissed while the clone suddenly bucked its hips. “I prefer you doing this, but I’m eager – I’ll teach you later.” With his other hand, Verstael, reached up, and tweaked the clone’s nipple. A choked moan left its lips. Such a cute noise, and so many more to hear. Verstael slips his finger in, that virgin hole, his for the taking, and he’s eager to slip in, feeling his own cock twitch.

        “Sensitive.” He purred. “That serum is expensive. You’re lucky you get to use it. Makes everything three times more sensitive, and refractory is hardly a thought in your mind… not that it ever was. Even a strong breeze could make you come, huh? Just touching here is making you crazy.” Verstael curled his finger, and felt the clone clench down, a choked moan left its lips. He watched it writhe, gasping and begging, some nonsensical gibberish. It was so easy to make them undone. He puts a second finger in, producing a whine, but it slowly turns to pleasure. He continued to pinch at its nipple, watching it cum again, more white cum spilt on its equally pale body. Once he feels satisfied with the prep, He peeled the glove off, dropping it on the floor. The janitors could clean it up, as well as his sheets, which he’s sure will need cleaning later.

        He leans on the bed, knee making an indent. The clone squirmed, shifting around, playing with its own cock more, wanting to cum, and spilling it’s cum on the bed.

        “Filthy little thing… look at the mess you’re making.” Verstael hissed once it came again, droplets of cum dripping on the satin sheets. He doesn’t even give a warning, and takes to a strangle hold on the clone. It whined, but its quickly choked out of the clone. The thing whimpered, such a sweet noise, and Verstael shoves his cock in after sliding his oiled cock against its backside for a bit. The clone then let out a guttural moan, and Verstael thrust, filling it completely, and felt it clench on him.

        “Perfect little virgin, so sweet, and I’ll take every inch of you, show you what you are, you’re mine, mine and nothing else, just a thing, a toy, and that’s how I’ll use you. My little fucktoy.” He growled in its ear, biting its neck again, until he tasted a bit of blood, until he felt more squirming, moaning, and released, realizing he was squeezing too hard. The clone gasped for air, but eventually started thrusting its hips. Even half suffocated it just wanted more cock. Everything felt so good, even being choked left some sort of tingle in its body. Every touch was so much, and again it cums when Verstael strokes its prostate.

        “Ahh!” It cried out, the overstimulation was so much, it trembled under him, the serum pumping in its veins. The clone bucked its hips, shouted, clawed at the bedsheets, begging, babbling something nonsensical, and Verstael loved it, listened to it, watched it as it tightened and gasped for air. The clone, quietly slides off its knees, and goes flat on the bed, writhing at the sensation. “ _Master_ …” The thing whined pitifully.

        Verstael can’t help it, he thrusts deep, and feels his cum filling the clone, causing another cacophony of moans and gibberish. He leaned over the clone, biting its ear, whispering more about its filthy little body, its filthy little hole. He sees more cum dripping out its cock. He pulled the thing over, and looked at its panting red face, cock achingly bright red.

        He takes the toy from his nightstand, after slipping out of the clone, and plugs its greedy hole, then snaps a cockring over the base of its cock. He was panting, already winded from just that little go. He takes a cool drink of water, and pops another pill in his mouth before washing it down. The clone squirms, clutching at him, so he reaches into the drawer, and pulls out some leather belts. He wraps one around the clone’s left thing, and cuffs his left wrist down, he does the same on its right side, and watched it squirm, trying to free its arms, trying to figure out why it was trapped while swarmed with pleasure.

        The chains between the wrist and thigh aren’t long, just enough for it to move around feebly, and quietly touch itself, unable to figure out why cumming suddenly became so difficult. Verstael scoffed, and stripped his shirt off, dropping it on the floor, he looked down at the divots of flesh, places where he’d removed bullets, scars from surgery, his skin is gaunt, some sun damage from the old time he spent in the field working for the military. He drops his trousers and belts, walking over to the bathroom. Inside was the machines that was attached to the clone just before they’d pulled it out of the chemical tube. The feeding pipe, rebreather, and some other devices sitting scattered around. Always such a mess, but so worth it. He washed his face, knowing he was still tired from the day, eyes red and veiny, dark circles under his eyes.

        The clone is squirming, and he can see it from the mirror, watching them feebly turn over to their stomach, and try to get up. Pushing their knees into the bed, ass up in the air. He chuckled, calming himself down, and deciding he would have all the fun he could have with this one. It was so nicely unobtrusive.

        After cooling down, Verstael came back, watching the clone had pushed the vibrating toy in deeper, and was aching to cum, cock purpling and achingingly swollen near the cockring. Verstael got into the bed, and quietly got his fingers at the cockring, and with a swift jerk, ripped the ring off. The clone nearly screamed, able to cum at last, or at least feeling so much more relief as well as pain from the sensitivity at its aching cock being so roughly handled like that. Cum dribbled from the tip, down its hard member, onto its pelvis and thighs.

        “Master…” It whimpered so sweetly, and the voice and rough tone all went straight to Verstael’s cock. He laid down, not feeling nearly as feisty, and brought the clone over him. He thought for a moment, and decided to leave the restraints on. The scientist ripped the vibrator out suddenly, causing another sensitive yelp and jolt. He clicks it off, and sets it down. Then he took the clone, and brought it to his chest. The clone nuzzled it’s face against his scar. Verstael slowly lined himself up, and teased its nipples a bit, watching it squirm and moan, such a sensitive spot, he made mental note to abuse that spot further with small vibrating bullets and a bit of tape.

        Slowly, he worked the clone down, feeling it tightened its slick walls around his cock. He continued to rock it up and down, spreading its legs properly, until it was seating properly on his cock. More panting. He lets it adjust, having to adjust himself, and continued to push to the hilt, feeling how good everything felt. It had been a while since he treated himself to this pleasure. It feels wonderful, to give himself a break, even if it’s like this, using a clone as nothing but a cocksleeve, making it do all filthy sorts of things. He thrust up a few times, until he sees it moan, and then settled down. Then he leaves the work to it.

        Such a magnificent view, watching the clone bouncing up and down, wanting more, frustratingly grabbing at its own cock, stroking in time with its own thrust. Verstael sat back, watching it do the work. That glossy sheen of sweat, the drool at its mouth, lips plump and red-pink, down to its nipples, pert from so much teasing, and that aching cock, dripping cum on Verstael’s own stomach now.

        “Good… good slut.” He hissed, watching it service him, squeeze his cock, jerk him off. “You were built for this, for being a sex toy, nothing but a sleeve for cocks… you would never work as a soldier, you work beautifully as this… and nothing else… worthless little reject—ah” He grunted as he felt it squeeze down on him, suddenly hitting that soft sweet flesh, enough to get it to shudder and moan. It worked its hips faster, wanting more, squeezing more, scraping every inch of its insides for pleasure, for warmth, for purpose.

        “Ah—good boy, good little slut, ahh, _Prompto_ —” He grunted, name falling loosely from his tongue, as he came, filling that clone up. Oh, that wretched little name, his mistake, the one that got away, the one that allured him most. Ardyn spoke about that one once or twice, only interesting him more. Verstael decided not to pursue it, but the Chancellors teasing always irritated him. He knew very well about the one baby taken away, and taunted him, the old clones were hardly that, children that required maintenance until puberty, although some of them still lingered they were truly a waste of time – the clone before him, was perfection, the best he could do, a full war capable adult in months – and yet he finds himself fowlly calling this thing Prompto, imagining it’s a human, not a little thing shaped like a human.

        He lets the clone ride him until another orgasm comes out, and then finally takes it off and wipes himself down. The thing has to ride out about an hour worth of unberable sensitivity on a vibrator, not that Verstael minded. He just continued some work he could get done, then finally untied the thing, and showered it with him. Still so innocent and quiet, resting on him while bathing, and the custodians have come to clean his room and leave him a meal by the time he exits. He orders another meal for the clone, and some simple clothes for it. Verstael dresses it, and feeds himself, before feeding the clone – of course, it never ate food like this before, always just a tube in its throat, so it was a messy experience, but one Verstael had never had before. He never really did keep the clone after sex, even showering with it was new. Its hair was still damp, and he set it down on the bed, tucking it in to the fresher sheets.

        He tells the clone to stay, and goes to his desk. His work is never done, after all. After a bit of file sorting, and organizing reports and receipts to send to different accounts as well as different office workers, he stands up, stretches his legs, and pauses, looking at the clone. He goes to his bathroom, finding some old jar of hair gel, and exits, grabbing a comb on the vanity, and returning to the clone. He finds the clone welcoming him warmly, slowly climbing over him as he gets in bed. Verstael quietly sat in bed, letting the clone sit in his lap. He took a dab of hair gel, and slicked the clone’s hair upward, a bit like chocobo feathers, yes, that was what Ardyn said, wasn’t it? Prompto. The one with the camera. Hair like a chocobo caboose. He smirked at the thought, but he felt his obedient little clone was much better than whatever that escaped one was. So much more to give, to let him have, and Verstael was willing to take. As he sat there, the door to the bunker opens, and a doctor standing their freezes. Very few people have keys to his room, so Verstael doesn’t even pay attention. He’s not worried of anyone breaking in, he trusts the doctors who have the keys. He’s more interested in his half-naked little clone.

        “Excuse me sir, I didn’t know you were awake.”

        Those wrinkled lips produce a smile. “Not to worry Tor. Days reports?”

        “Yes sir.” Tor responded.

        “You know where to put them.” Verstael replied.

        Tor nodded, and walked over to the bins of organized reports, setting the file on top the recent on the left-hand side of the desk. He looked to the folded-up gurney that they’d brought the failed clone in with, sitting at the foot of Verstael’s huge bed. The younger man raised a brow.

        “So, what do you think, sir? Any good? Gonna send it our way? Or you tossing it out?” Tor made a switch motion, Verstael knew he was referring to the incinerator switch. He chuckled, and continued to comb the hair up into that cute little point, the hair staying nicely in place. Verstael smiled. The clone watched its master smile, and responded with a soft smile of its own.

        “I think I’ll keep this one to myself for now.”

**Author's Note:**

> I did it. Not because they said I couldn't do it. But because they told me not too.  
> I'm terrible.  
> Leave a comment if ya feelin nasty.  
> Also follow my blog if u want, arcadiaocean.tumblr .com


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